Shifting Tides
by Blackstorm808
Summary: In the season six premiere we saw a trigger happy idiot put a bullet through Tara. This is a oneshot depicting how Pamela coped with her progney getting shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Mkay I saw the season six premiere last night and had to write this.**

**A simple oneshot that will be divided into two parts. The next part coming in a day or so.**

**Read and Enjoy people!**

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Pam's eyes darted sporadically between the gun barrel pointed at her forehead, and Tara's inert body, the beginngs of panic fluttering in her stomach. Tara was not moving. She wasn't fucking breathing, and there was a peculiar feeling of emptiness corroding her progeny's side of the bond. For the second time since Pam became a Maker, she was well and truly terrified for Tara's life. Humans armed with guns, filled with wooden ammunition had flooded into Fangtasia-forcefully trying to take the one establishment that still connected her explicitly to Eric. They built it together; they ran it togther; Fangtasia was the one commonality between them that still felt tangible, and had nothing to do with Sookie's magical fucking vagina. For that reason alone Pam had tried to preserve it, but negotiating with a bunch of military neanderthals was a fruitless endeavor, and one that she abandoned as soon as she realized how terrified the opposing party was. Even now-The acrid scent of human fear permeated through the air-a constant reminder of the current situation. These particular humans were tense, and they were trigger happy-the worse possible combination for her to deal with. They were here to take Fangtasia from her and they had shot Tara.

Tara. Fangtasia. Tara. Fangtasia. Tara. Fangtasia.

Pam's glacier blue eyes darkened.

These fucktwats shot her progeny.

Pam could only feel small traces of Tara through their bond. Brief flickers of pain and confusion. Nothing concrete. Nothing reassuring.

A booted foot rammed into her ribs, startling her, and her gaze slowly left her progeny to stare at the human hovering over her. The ambitious leader of the firing squad surrounding her bar. He edged closer to her, beads of perspiration rolling down his brow, and jammed the edge of his assault rifle into her shoulder. "Move up against the wall. We're appropriating all of your wares tonight. If you try anything funny we will shoot you, just like we shot your friend." He warned her, his voice dropping to a low cadence in warning.

Pam's perfect white teeth flashed at the human meatsack as she mentally eviscerated him over and over again in her head. He was presumptuous enough to command her. He was taking Fangtasia. He shot Tara. All valid reasons to seperate his head from his body, and yet even with the exquisite vampire gifts Eric had graced her with, she was still helpless. These humans were taking everything, and there was not a damn thing she could do about it.

There were too many for her to kill, while dodging bullets, and she couldn't afford to risk Tara.

So, she surrendered.

Against propriety.

Against her nature.

Pushing off the ground she began to follow the gunman's directions. With excruciating slowness-her eyes moving in tandem with his rifle, she half crawled-half slid her way to the back of the bar. Halfway to her destination, she took a detour inching closer to Tara. Treating her progeny like she would fragile glass, she gently drew the limp woman into her arms, and slid back against the wall. Tara's head rolled into her lap, and Pam adjusted their position so the inert woman was arranged neatly against her, instead of sprawled over her in an unsightly heap. She was trying so very hard to be careful-exhibiting a fraction of the tenderness she reserved for only Tara. She was so engrossed in the task she hardly noticed the artillery squad milling about Fangtasia. Moving things. Destroying things.

Pam was experiencing an accute sense of whiplash.

They had been free from the Authority for less than an hour.

They survived Lillith.

They survived Bill Fucking Compton.

Pam had survived Eric's familial revelation.

Would they survive the human race when it was hell bent on incinerating them?

With Tara hovering between extreme states of lucidity and complete incoherency, Pam was leaning towards no. This was a human world that vampires lived in. And the humans didn't feel like sharing anymore. The time for a peaceful coexistance was over. Chasing the phantom of coinhabitance was no longer plausible. The severity of the situation was finally beginning to sink in. Vampires were on the cusp of total extinction, and no one borne of supernatural origins was safe. Eric was right to reprimand her earlier. Her feelings of righteous indignation were ill timed. And totally misguided. Nora was a pain in the ass but she was not the problem. The problem was Pam was missing the big picture.

Sometimes she forgot that in comparison to Eric she was relatively young, and unlike her he was not thinking in the present. He was old, and the marks of his age were shrouded in his invulnerable persona. He was always looking towards the future, and examining what variables would be detrimental to the whole. In the grand scheme of things, Pam's emotional turmoil was not important and would not have any fatal consequences. Not now. Not when the world was ending. But an hour ago Pam was too distraught to come to this conclusion. She was too upset that Eric didn't trust her.

She wanted to be able to stand side by side with Eric as his equal.

She ached to live up to her Maker's legacy.

But really, did her feelings matter now?

Only to Tara it seemed...

Her devastatingly beautiful, and unbelievably stupid progeny-Who had a complex for getting shot to protect the blondes in her life. Pam appreciated the protective gesture, but she was going to kill Tara when she woke up. Honestly. The girl acted like she had an "S" on her chest and was impervious to death. Vampires were more durable than humans, but the first lesson Eric had taught her was that everyone dies. Vampires included. A well known fact that Tara was refusing to learn.

Fucking Baby Vamps.

"Pam?" A caress of the wind; a dry rasp that her progney managed to husk out between clenched teeth.

Pam's gaze immediately fell towards the limp woman in her arms. Tara was making no attempt to mask her pain physically or in the less verbose way. Pam shuddered as something akin to a javelin piercing through her, traveled down the extension of their bond, mirroring Tara's agony, and magnifying it so Pam could feel it.

"Well, well, " Pam drawled-trying to gather her composure as a staggering amount of relief tore through her at seeing Tara awake again. "Welcome back." Her grip tightened marginally on her progeny, trying to solidify in her mind that she was real, and not on the verge of death or a very crippled afterlife. Mindful of the soldiers still watching them with hawk like vigilance, Pam leaned down so her lips were right next to Tara's ear. "What were you thinking Tara?" She hissed, her voice only audible to a vampire's hearing.

Tara was hardly recovered from the bullet lodged in her stomach, so her reply came out breathy and pained. "I was thinking that they need to keep their goddamn rifles off of you."

"You are stupid." Pam reprimanded her sharply, unmoved by the crass show of devotion. "We are surrounded. They are armed to the teeth, and they are scared. You just gave them another reason to fear us, so they shot you." Pam explained slowly, enunciating each word with exaggerated emphasis so Tara knew how serious she was.

"They were going to shoot you." Tara rumbled weakly, her hazel eyes flickering over to the shooting squad invading their home, before flitting back to Pam's exasperated gaze. "They were going to kill you. I will die before I let that happen. The bullet those fucking cunts shot me with hurts like a bitch, but it's nothing compared to how I would feel if you died." Tara's voice cracked, and through their bond pain pulsed like a living thing, thrashing, and writhing, looking for an outlet and finding one in her progeny.

For the first time in a long time Pam was speechless.

It wasn't the most eloquent show of loyalty she'd ever heard, but it was the most sincere one that had ever been directed at her. Feelings she tended to ignore bubbled up in her chest, pride, gratitude, and something far more intimate. However, in the same way it gratified her, it worried her. Tara was ready to die for her at the slightest provocation. In this stage of her progeny's life when she was all impulse, and primal instincts-she did not have a hope in hell of competeing against the enemies closing in on them from all sides. Tara's feelings towards Pam, however well intended, were going to get the little Vampire killed.

Losing Tara was becoming a distinct possibility.

Pam absentmindedly traced the contours of her progeny's face, with a gentle hand. "You are so stupid." She concluded without any of her usual bite. "They weren't going to kill me. They were going to take Fangtasia." Her lips curved up into a wistful smile-her mood settling on melancholy in the midst of pure chaos. "And despite the slight attatchment I have to this place, I don't need it. It's just four walls, and plaster, and everything in it from the tables, to the drinks, to the humans that work here are replaceable." Pam's voice hardened as she turned icy eyes to her progeny, who flinched in her arms. "You are not. So stop being so fucking moronic, and willing to cast your life away like it has no value."

"I don't...I don't understand" Tara trailed off uncertainly, her eyes wide. "Earlier you said-I could never measure up to Eric. I thought-"

"You weren't listening." Pam cut her off impatiently. "That feeling that connects Maker and progeny never goes away, and I've been Eric's for over 100 years. The devotion you have for me, that drove you to dive in front of a bullet-I have tenfold for Eric. I told you that you could never replace him-that doesn't mean you don't matter."

Tara's breathing stalled. "So does that mean, you and me?" The words struggled out into a barely cohesive sentence.

Pam sighed despairingly. "I also told you this is not an epic fucking romance. We could die at any moment. You almost just died a few minutes ago. I'm not interested in a relationship that could end miserably in death."

"Not because of Eric then. Because you're scared." Tara rationalized, staring up at her Maker beneath lidded eyes.

"Considering the several times we nearly died this week. Yes, scared just about sums up my emotional status, and if you were smart you would be too." Pam informed her bitterly. Exhaustion dragged down her words, and there was a temporary lapse in the conversation as Pam let her head fall back against the wall behind them. The blonde vampire stared up silently at the ceiling. Wondering how long this god awful "appropriation process" would take. An eternity seemed to have passed already, and she was still hearing the same convolution of noises; glass cracking, wood breaking, and paper tearing.

Tara had fallen silent in her arms as well, and Pam's exemplary hearing was able to pick up on her labored breathing.

The bullet probably needed to come out.

And there were no tweazers or tools of any kind to save Pam from having to bodily dig it out herself.

Fan-fucking-tastic. She thought darkly, and let her hand that was resting beneath Tara's neck slide down her body o her midsection. Tearing her shirt, so the expanse of flesh beneath her fingers was exposed Pam narrowed her focus to the small gaping hole staring at her. "I suggest you brace yourself. This is going to hurt." She warned a barely conscious Tara before inserting her pointer finger into the bulletwound. Immediately Tara's eyes shot open, and her progeny appeared to be holding back a scream. "Don't thrash, or the bullet might go in deeper, and this is going to hurt alot more." Pam murmured distractedly, twirling her finger around beneath Tara's skin so she could widen the wound. She needed two fingers inside the gaping wound to grasp the bullet, and pull it out.

As attentive as Pam was being at her current task, her senses were still on overdrive so when the door to Fangtasia slammed open and the smell of winter frost wafted to her, hailing her Maker's arrival with that damnable sister of his, she did not even look up. The humans all jumped at the sound-pausing in whatever governor ordered mandate they might be doing, and turning their attention towards the door.

"What the hell is going on here?" Eric Northman's voice drifted towards her a second later. Pam knew it would take her Maker a minute to assess the situation. The question is what would he do? Unlike her, he had the capabilites to kill every human in this room without sacrificing one of his own to do it. His sister would undoubtedly help him protect what was his as well. The loving sibling that she was. Fucking Nora.

The human leader of the firing squad that had addressed her earlier stepped forward. "We are here under the governers orders to shut down this business."

Eric, didn't even deem the man's words worthy enough to respond to. Instead his gaze perused the confines of Fangtasia looking for his progeny who was hidden beneath the bar counter trying to rid Tara of the accursed bullet weakening her. "Pamela?"

Oh now he wanted to talk to her?

Funny, she was a tad occupied at the moment.

The vindictive part of her laughed.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stand against the wall while we do this." The human gunman persisted.

Eric who was still trying to divine the location of his progney, focused intently on the assault rifles now pointed at him. Nora, ever at his side these days snorted disparagingly. "You've got to be joking." She drawled, her voice dripping with disdain, and that was the last thing Pam heard before screams filled the air, as well as the sound of decapitated bodies hitting the ground. In the instant it took to blink, Eric and Nora had systematically killed every last human in the room. A feat Pam could not have accomplished on her own. The threats being thoroughly executed gave Eric a singular focus, and he was able to track Pam's scent to the bar. Peering over the countertop, he was astonished to see Pam pouring over Tara's prone form. "Pam?" He vaulted over the bar landing next to his progney, who refused to look up from Tara's body.

Pam ignored her Maker, partly out of spite, and partly because her fingertips just brushed against the edge of the bullet. Grasping the the piece of ammunition carefully, she pulled it out from Tara's flesh with a quiet slink. Tara shuddered, her eyes glassy from the pain as the bullet left her body.

Eric watched this process silently. "Are you okay?" He asked, just as Pam threw the bullet on the ground disgustedly.

"I'm just peachy." Pam deadpanned. "They shot my fucking progney. How do you think I am?" Gently setting Tara on the ground, so as not to upset her battered body, she met Eric's concerned gaze, with a contemptible glare of her own. "How's Tinkerbell? and Jessica?"

"The fairy is fine, and so is the baby vamp." Nora spoke up from the corner of the room, even as Eric remained silent in the face of Pam's fury.

Of course the fairy was fine.

Sookie was always fine.

Pam shook her head, unable to put into words how sick she was of Sookie's life taking precedence over everyone elses. Tara might have died tonight, and Eric was moping like a lovesick teenage boy over Sookie fucking Stackhouse. "How cool." Pam gushed disinterestedly. "Well as lively as this diversion has been, my progeny needs blood if she's going to recover." She brushed past Eric, making an attempt to move around the bar.

He caught her arm, keeping her in place. "Pam. I know how trying this is for you, but she is my sister, and you are my progney. We are all going to survive this together, or we're going to die alone because we were too stupid to keep each other alive."

Pam shrugged out of his grip. "You don't have to tell me to play nice." His cutting words from earlier returned with a vengeance. Revolving in a never ending carousel through her mind.

_Either have my back or get out of my face._

"No matter what you choose to do, I will always have your back." She chuckled in a way that held no amusment. "but the only one that always has mine is lying in a tangle of limbs by the bar."

She loved Eric to death.

That was an irrefutable fact that would never change.

But he wasn't the only one that mattered anymore, and his actions were indirectly making her progney suffer, and by extension indirectly making her suffer. She needed a break from Eric's indecipherable moods, and unpredictable actions. But like always, she would return to his side when it didn't visibly strain her to be around him. "I'll be back." At vamp speed she left the bar, a huntress looking for prey to sustain her, and those dear to her.

As she left Fangtasia behind her, Nora's voice filtered towards her. "Is she always this fucking dramatic?"

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**And that's the end for now. **

**What did you think?**

**And Did anyone else get the feeling in this new episode that Tara came on to Pam too strong, and royally fucked up the moment by being impulsive? Pam is not impressed by Baby vamp feelings. I think once Tara grows a little they will get somewhere.**


	2. Chapter 2

**And here's the final part of the oneshot. I rather liked the feedback from last chapter, and I'm glad some people agreed that Tara came on a bit strong with her feelings, and it wasn't even that she was overdoing it, it was just Pam wasn't ready to deal with any feelings.**

**And I apologize for any mistakes you might see. I had to upload this one from my phone-so if fanfiction cuts anything off-I can't correct it right away. So this update might be a little raw.**

**Anyways, Read and enjoy people!**

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Pam returned several hours later, a scaint few minutes from dawn with a glamoured woman in tow. She'd taken her time selecting her meal, refusing to bring back anything but a willing virgin-that would not only nourish her progney, but would also taste orgasmic. She was starving herself, and it took an iron will not to bite the woman before Tara had fed. Her progney's sustenance came before her own today-so Tara could heal. As soon as she crossed the threshold into Fangtasia's main room, she noticed the faded scents of Eric and Nora who must have went to ground awhile ago. It appeared Tara was the only one still resisting sleep, driven by the foolish compulsion to stay awake and wait for her Maker to come home.

Dealing with a very lucid Tara was not an ordeal Pam was looking forward to, especially since their last few conversations had ended so _spectacularly_. Her progeny was convinced they had a future together. Pam didn't devote several hours to hunting a human just to find the most delectable one-she also did it to escape Eric's presence, and Tara's hungry gaze. Her Maker and her progney; The two people she valued most in this world, were also the two people causing her the most grief. Eric insisted on getting attatched to the most infuriating people, and with each new connection he made, he drew a little further from her. Pam felt him drifting away, and she could only watch as he became integral to a world she was not apart of. A world where his existence revolved around stupid wenches named Nora and Sookie. His absence was keenly felt, and was not unlike a knife; cutting, sharp, and likely to leave a scar. Then there was Tara-who was adamant about filling the void Eric left behind.

Her progney was flirting with danger, trying to fill Eric's shoes and take over his role in Pam's life. Whispering sweet nuances like, "It's just you and me now right?" unaware of how naive she sounded.

No one could ever take Eric's place.

He had been Pam's salvation from her own personal hell.

Once upon time she had loved him desparately.

She still did, but only insomuch as progeny can love their Maker.

What Tara wanted was completely different...

Her progney longed for monogamous companionship, affection ; human sentiments that Pam had scoffed at and belittled because she did not believe in them. Even when she was a human in the Victorian era, when every female aspired to enrapture a beau with the same illogical drivel-Pam broke the mold by only placing faith in herself. Love was a fool's gold, and Pam would not fall prey to it's vices. These object terms of idyllic affection were the notions of an idealist, who still believed in other abstract idiosyncrasies like hope, and reprieve, and trust.

Time had forged Pam into a opportunist.

The only opportunity "love" would afford her was an eternity of heartache when it was cruelly taken away from her-courtesy of Billith, the humans, or any other number of supernatural fuck ups that crawled out of the woodworks.

She wasn't sure how to articulate this to Tara, who refused to accept rejection.

Her progney was stubborn to a fault, and completely immune to Pam's superfluous comments; dismissing her cutting words as nothing but noise-baseless words without function. Tara pretended to listen to every acidic word that fell out of her Maker's mouth, but Pam knew the only truth her progney was accepting was the thrum of the bond between them. Whatever Tara felt from her, was only fueling the embers, and encouraging her progney in her relentless pursuit.

And as Eric so quaintly pointed out, this was not the time or the place.

Not for confrontation.

And definitely not for some bogus declaration of love.

Would Tara accept that though?

Pam was doing her damndest not to nurture what was growing between them, and she had been marginally successful. Only marginally, because in spite of herself, she was drawn to Tara-and everything about her was a revelation- so every time she took a step away from her, it was only a matter time before she was backstepping to be near her again. Which is why their tentative relationship was stalled-dangling between a sweet coalescance between Maker and progney, or dilineating into a sad division, where all mentions of a future together were buried in the darkest sepulchre.

The visible strain was leaving Pam with a plethora of regrets.

She should not have allowed a human to shoot her progney.

She should not have embraced temptation, and fucked Tara on the beach.

She should not have grown some semblance of a conscience in Fangtasia, and felt the need to explain herself in an attempt to mend the growing rift between them.

The "should nots" were vast in number, but the most pressing "should not" was this; she should not be in a room alone with Tara because obviously her control around her progney was nonexistant. She couldn't stop herself from either irreparably damaging the baby vamp, or unmercifully exploring the tenderness between them, and than waiving off the icky emotions before they could take root. And then in the aftermath of her denial, she would have to deal with Tara's soulful gaze following her everywhere, and stave off the deep pangs of guilt that came with putting that remorseful look on the beautiful woman's face.

And yet, here she was again.

In a room alone with her progney.

A barrier of silence between them that seemed to stretch on for miles.

Pam took the proverbial plunge first. "I brought you a human. I suggest you feed." She said promptly, shoving the girl none-to-gently in Tara's direction. The dark skinned woman who had been sitting on a bar stool, shakily got to her feet just in time to catch the glassy eyed human, who smiled distantly up at the younger vampire. Tara steadied them both, her grip tightening on her future meal, before turning her attention to her Maker.

"Thank you." Her progney said simply-before succumbing to her baser desires. Tara's head fell into the dip between the human's shoulder and neck, and Pam heard the distinct sound of fangs protracting. A second later, the human hissed in pain and pleasure as Tara's curved ivories sank into her tender flesh. Pam watched her progeny eat, satisfying a ravenous hunger that stemmed through the last several days of starvation, the shortage of true blood, and the new wounds she'd obtained.

Almost a full minute minute later Tara paused, licking her supple lips. "You should eat with me. It's been awhile since you've fed, hasn't it?"

A simple observation, and yet it set Pam on edge.

She eyed Tara warily, worry and concern surging through their bond from her progeny.

"It's been awhile." Pam agreed shortly, her words clipped. She sat up from the table she'd been leaning against, and approached the duo. Arranging herself on the other side of the human, Pam was aware of the distinct lack of space between herself, and Tara-and yet she was too hungry to care. Taking possession of the glamoured girl's wrist, her own fangs protracted with a click, and pierced through the milky skin. Next to her, Tara resumed feeding, and they both became lost to a sea of ecstasy, drinking slowly and savoring the meal between them. Pam had not had a true meal since being captured by that Authority, so she derived an almost salacious pleasure from the blood envigorating her senses.

Tara withdrew from the human first, while Pam continued to slack her thirst.

It took a few moments for Pam to garner control of the beast inside of her that demanded she drain this bloodsack dry.

In that span of time, Tara's hazel eyes never moved from her.

"Pam, I think we have to talk."

As soon as those ominous words graced her superior hearing Pam lost her appetite. Her fangs retracted in her mouth, and she sent the human beneath her a mournful look. "Are you really doing this now?" She addressed her progney without looking at her, every word dripping with exasperation.

"If I leave it up to you-we'll dance around this for the rest of eternity." Tara quipped, a weary sort of exhaustion weighing down her words.

"Son of a bitch." Pam breathed the expletive, resigned to the fact that this conversation was inevitable, and Tara was determined to have it now with Eric and Nora within earshot downstairs. She traced a mournful path down the glamoured human's jawline, delaying the confrontation by a few scarce seconds to mentally prepare herself, before leaning into the raptured human. "Go play with Eric and Nora downstairs."

The human simpered-shuddering at the command before doing as she was told.

Moving with two left feet, the half drained woman stumbled over to the backdoor in Fangtasia, and disappeared beyond the threshold leaving Pam alone with her progney.

"Now, would you kindly enlighten me about this pressing thing we need to talk about?" Pam drawled, her glacier blue eyes boring holes into the midnight kissed woman standing before her.

"I want to talk about you." Tara replied evenly.

Raising one prefunctory eyebrow at the vague answer, Pam's lips curved up into a half smile that was far too sweet to be sincere. "Well I'm a natural blonde. My favorite color is lavender, and I think most of the fucking world wants us dead at the moment." She trailed off chipperly, her fake pleasant voice disintegrating to it's normal sardonic drawl. "Really, Tara?"

Tara shook her head in bemusement, expecting no less from her Maker. "You know that's not what I meant Pam."

"What did you mean then?" Pam glared at Tara abruptly, all the humor bleeding out of her voice.

Tara, more than use to riding out Pam's temper like a storm, just smiled tiredly. "I want to understand you, and why you're running from me. We've been running from everything for the past few weeks. It makes sense to run from Bill; it makes sense to run from the Lillith; and it makes sense to haul ass to get away from the god damn Authority. But you-you're still running, and it's not an enemy that's chasing you-it's me." Tara's bold words robbed Pam of her voice-and her progney took that as an opportunity to come closer to her. Close enough to touch. Pam took a step back, her eyes narrowing derisively. "Every time I get close to you, you take a step back. Why are you so scared?"

Pam took a breath, forcing her broken vocals to work. "I'm not scared."

Tara stared at her disbelievingly.

"I'm _**not**_ scared." She repeated more emphatically this time. "I don't know what you want me to tell you Tara. You are asking for more than what I'm willing to give you, and this is not the fucking time to start a romance"

The words _right now_, resonated in her head.

Unsaid.

"Our bond says otherwise. It's the only reason I'm not backing down on this. You say you don't want me-but I feel you're longing. I know the idea doesn't annoy you as much you pretend it does. The only one you are lying to is yourself." Her progeny stated brazenly, pushing the limits of Pam's patience.

Her temper flaring dangerously the older vampire crossed the distance between them, so she was nose to nose with her progney, mindful of the sinfully soft skin beneath her, and the defiant glare goading her to do something, she gently grasped Tara's chin forcing her to meet her chipped gaze. "And what would come of this disastrous love story you're so intent on creating if I were to give in? When the humans come knocking, or when Bill leads us to our True Death? Would investing everything into a doomed relationship even be worth it?"

"I would relish every second we spent together." Tara replied fiercely, but it wasn't her words that Pam paid an especial amount of attention to. It was their bond, and the savage glint in her progeny's gaze that was beginning to waver.

She saw it there, in the depths of those hazel eyes.

A flicker of hesitation.

A petulant sigh left Pam's lips as she released her grip on her progney.

"You have no idea what you're asking me for."

Pam was an opportunist.

She saw potential in Tara, to be everything Pam could ask for in a progeny and more.

She would never replace Eric.

But she could earn a seperate place in Pam's life that was more meaningful than his. A hundred years from now Pam could be walking the earth with Tara instead of him. But only if they survived. Only if they managed to stay intact during the upcoming apocalypse.

Then and only then would Pam consider Tara as a possible contender to spend eternity with.

Right here; right now; with her progeny swept up in a tide of baby vamp hormones, lost to eternally warring feelings of lust, loyalty, and something akin to affection- Pam wasn't ready to risk a chance on something as fickle as love-that came in the form of Tara Mae Thorton, and Tara no matter how vocal she was, was not ready to commit to a relationship of Pam's caliber. Her progeny needed to grow into herself first-and learn what it truly meant to be a vampire. Chuckling morosely at the sad state of her life, and at the feeling of sitting on the pinnacle of something new, but unable to actually grasp it made Pam sober completely.

She shook her head at the sullen look on Tara's face. "Let's go to ground. The sun is rising and the bleeds are not a good look for me." She murmured, gently shoving her progeny's stiff shoulders, and guiding her towards the stairs.

Pam was not the most patient vampire ever.

But she was willing to wait for Tara.

And perhaps in time she would discover if Alfred Lord Tennyson's words had any merit: Was love the only real gold?

If that wasn't a human sentiment she didn't know what was.

* * *

**And that's all she wrote~ **

**Leave some love.**


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